


On Brand

by ProseApothecary



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: Rose Video gets it's least enthusiastic employee.





	On Brand

Opening the store is uneventful, except for the pain in his head, and the fact that Patrick keeps running through memories of last night, not sure if he’s over or underthinking things.

He stands at the sales desk, trying not to fall asleep in the quiet room. There’s a cough and he looks up. Johnny is there, with David in tow. Last night’s David. Warm, pineapple-scented David. Currently open-mouthed David.

That’s when Patrick notices Johnny is speaking. He tries to tune in.

“…a party where somehow THREE priceless vases were broken and the fire department was called. So he’ll be working here today. Treat him as you’d treat any other employee.”

“Um. Right,” says Patrick. He’s pretty sure drunken games of Spin-the-Bottle were not in the scope of acceptable employee relations.

 

As soon as Mr Rose leaves, David joins Patrick behind the desk.

“So,” he says, “I think I kissed you last night? Uh. Sorry, I guess?”

Patrick laughs awkwardly. “You don’t need to apologise. But I think I broke one of those priceless vases. So, _I_ might need to apologise?”

David smiles. “Don’t apologise. Now I know who to point out in the line-up.”

“You’ll never take me alive,” Patrick says and David grins at him.

God, he looks good when he smiles. He can’t remember if he was smiling last night. He just remembers that he tasted of Midori, and the fuzz of his sweater brushed against his neck, and he really needs to think about anything else.

“Do you want to pick which movie we show?” Patrick asks, pointing to the screen facing customers.

“Yes,” says David immediately.

He ends up picking _The Notebook_ , which is decidedly Not Patrick’s Favourite Movie, but David will sometimes get distracted, and stand stock still and stare up at the screen, and there’s something oddly sweet about it, so it’s not entirely terrible.

 

It doesn’t occupy his attention for long though. Which is why Patrick ends up sitting, watching David run his fingers over the romance section. “I own this one, and it’s amazing. This one. This one. This one. Not this one. This one, but it’s bad-”

“There are bad romance movies?” Patrick asks, feigning shock.

“There are bad everythings,” David says. “People and taste are natural enemies.”

“Oh. Is that why _The Notebook_ is so popular?”

David purses his lips and Patrick smiles.

 

Whatever David’s response was going to be, it’s cut short by the clang of the bell on the door as a woman walks in.

“Hi. Um I’m looking for recommendations-”

“Notting Hill. Clueless. 10 Things I Hate About You. _The Notebook_ -”

“-of action movies?”

“That’s a personality flaw that I _cannot_ help you with,” David says.

“Maybe I can help?” The woman looks at Patrick gratefully.

 

They start tidying up soon after the woman leaves. Patrick doesn’t ask David to help, but he does anyway.

“How could you not even try to steer that woman towards the romances.”

“ _Fight Club_ is romantic.” Patrick reaches up to slip a video into the shelf at the same time David finishes sorting the ‘E’ section. David turns around and suddenly they’re flush with each other.

“Sorry,” says Patrick, moving away to focus intently on the ‘F’ section.

“I-”

“We-”

Patrick smiles. “You go.”

David realises he doesn’t actually know what to say. “Um. You go.”

“I was just going to say, we’re pretty much done here. You can head off if you want.”

“Right.” says David, and doesn’t move.

Patrick raises an eyebrow.

“Listen,” David says. “I’m invited to this yacht party on Saturday. You could-you could come? You won’t be allowed to quote Fight Club. Or the Transformers movies. But you might enjoy it anyway?”

Patrick’s eyes widen.

“If you want to. Um. I’m not gonna, like, fire you if you say no.”

Patrick’s smile spreads across his face like butter on bread. “You can’t fire me.”

David frowns. “ _Ok_ , well I wouldn’t get my Dad to fire you.”

“He wouldn’t fire me. I’m an excellent employee.”

 “Ok, I’d like to formally rescind the offer of a date-”

“That’s too bad,” Patrick says, coming close to David. “I love yacht parties. I’ve been so busy with charity balls and movie premieres that I haven’t had time to go on any lately.”

David bites down the edge of his smile. “Ok, I know you’re being sarcastic, but that’s actually the _exact_ problem I’ve been having-”

Patrick, very intent on bringing the conversation back around to dating, pulls David into a kiss.

He doesn’t taste of Midori anymore. He tastes of mouthwash and breakfast muffins. Patrick loves it.

David leans back onto the shelf behind him so that Patrick can come closer.

“Ok,” says David after about 30 seconds. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but there’s this video that’s stabbing at least three of my organs-”

Patrick steps back and David pulls a copy of _Charlie’s Angels_ from the shelf behind him.

Patrick takes it from him and tosses it away. “Ok now?”

David gasps. “Not ok. That’s like kicking the Mona Lisa.”

Patrick can’t really bring himself to care, because David’s hands keep running up and down his torso.

He leans in to kiss him again when a sudden cough interrupts them.

“Oh my God-“

“Mr Rose-“

“Uh, don’t worry Patrick, this isn’t the first tryst David’s had with an employee.”

“Oh my _God_.”

“All perfectly natural, we just have to remember the nine rules of workplace relations: One-”

“We’re leaving now.” David picks up _Charlie’s Angels_ and slides it back onto the shelf.

“Well, maybe another time.” Johnny says hopefully. “Actually, Patrick if you need a lift-”

“I’m ok,” says Patrick, “thank you.”

Patrick feels a twinge as David gets his stuff from the storeroom and leaves with Johnny. He’s not sure when he’s going to see him next.

When he goes to the storeroom, there’s a note on top of his bag, in David’s delicate handwriting.

_Call_ _me when you learn to appreciate Lucy Liu_.

Patrick grins and texts the number underneath.

_Who’s Lucy Liu?_

His phone buzzes eight times in a row. And he might be sitting in a darkened backroom, with sticky floors and a smell of stale popcorn, but for the first time in a while, life feels exciting.


End file.
